All I Want for Christmas
by KawaiiTenshi27
Summary: A little bit of Christmas magic. 34. Mostly fluff.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer:** I don't own GW, or the boys – if I did, I'd have a much merrier holiday season. They are, however, on my wish list.

**Warning:** No real timeline, other than the fact that it's during the holiday season (that would be December).

Not much of a location. It could be AU. Or not. You decide.

A little bit of shounen-ai. Lots of fluffy snow, it's Christmas, after all!

**All I Want For Christmas**

**Part One**

The concert hall was packed. Every single seat was filled and there were even people standing in the back, lining the walls.

It was a holiday concert, and there were several different groups performing various pieces: everything from children's classics like 'Frosty the Snow Man' and 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' to the Hallelujah Chorus and other selections from Handel's Messiah.

The choir were superb, the orchestras flawless. And the audience was properly appreciative, either sitting in rapt silence or enthusiastically joining in, and loudly applauding in all the right places.

As the concert neared its end, the final orchestra stuck up a rousing rendition of 'Sleigh Ride.' The audience was still cheering as the musicians cleared the stage, leaving only a young boy with golden hair and a violin.

As the noise from the crowd started to fade, the violinist began his song.

It was a new piece, something no one knew, but, though it had no words, it captured the soul of the season, and no one had any doubt that it was meant for just that occasion. There was something in it that captured the heart of everyone present, evoking the very spirit of the holidays as it danced along. It was part joyous tune: of sleigh-rides and fancy clothes, of whirling waltzes and children's delight in beribboned presents under cheerfully decked trees. It was part somber melody: or glowing candles and prayers chanted in half-known languages, or stories of long ago and wishes for the future. And it was part soothing whisper: or crackling fires and hot chocolate, of deep, white snow and family.

The notes rose and fell, first barely louder than a breath, then crashing into the spellbound stillness, then retreating to quiet sweetness once more.

Offstage, hidden in part by the heavy curtain, stood another boy, the same age as the violinist. He'd left the stage with the rest of the orchestra, but had waited to hear the violin, not even bothering to put away his flute. His green eyes, one hidden by his hair, tracked the blond's every move.

When the piece ended, stunned silence reigned. No one moved. The only sound was the fading ring of the final notes, hanging almost frozen in the air.

Then someone started to clap. Within a heartbeat, the entire hall was on its feet, the thunder of its approval almost deafening.

The young musician gave an awkward bow, face flushing to a brilliant holiday scarlet at the honor of a standing ovation, and hastened from the stage. In his rush, he plunged headlong into the curtain, barreling straight into the green-eyed brunet.

"Tro!" the blond exclaimed, blue eyes lighting up as he recognized the victim behind the curtain.

"It was beautiful, Cat," Trowa said softly.

Quatre blushed again, and impulsively threw his arms around the taller boy's neck. "I was playing for you," he whispered.

Trowa tightened his grip on the younger boy's waist. "I know."

Quatre pulled back slightly so he could look the other boy in the face. "Tro – "

"Quatre!" a group of women appeared through the curtains, and the boys pulled apart.

"Fantastic job!" one of the women gushed.

"Absolutely marvelous!" raved another.

"Excellent performance, Winner," added one of several men joining the group around the young violin player.

Trowa caught the blond's eye for a moment, then took the violin and slid unnoticed from the crowd. He went downstairs to the greenroom, leaving Quatre to his fans. Gently, he put away the violin, then his own flute, after cleaning it carefully.

When he was done, the blue-eyed musician was still MIA, and Trowa decided that it was past time he rescued the young artiste from his adoring public.

Quatre, Trowa quickly discovered, had only made it as far as the stairs leading from the backstage area. He was still surrounded.

"Great job tonight, Barton," one of the men in the group slapped Trowa on the back as the boy moved past him.

"You, too, Anderson," Trowa nodded at the man, then slipped through the throng to Quatre's side. "Ready to go?" he asked in an undertone.

"Please," came the almost inaudible plea.

"Do you need to go to the greenroom before the party?" one of the younger women asked at the same time.

"Of course not!" one of the other women exclaimed just as Quatre opened his mouth to reply. "It's practically his party, after all. He wouldn't want to be late!"

The blond musician gave Trowa a trapped glance as they were swept off to the Christmas Eve party that was being held for the performers in one of the large rooms below the concert hall.

Nearly two hours after the end of the concert, Quatre managed to get away from the crowds by excusing himself to the bathroom.

Trowa found him there fifteen minutes later.

"I wondered if you'd fallen in," the flutist quipped when he discovered the blond perched on the sink counter, head back against the wall, dozing.

"Tro! Thank goodness!" the boy launched himself off the counter. "I thought I was going to die in here!"

Trowa chuckled.

"You have to get me out!" Quatre raced on. "I can't take any more of it!"

"And you can't just tell them to leave you alone." It wasn't a question.

"That would be rude," was the unnecessary reply.

"Of course," Trowa nodded in sympathetic understanding, though his green eyes were laughing. "Lucky for you, I have a plan."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, go mingle again – don't worry, it'll only be for a few minutes – and when I give you the signal, meet me outside the stage door. I'll be waiting."

"But how will I get away?"

"It won't be a problem. Trust me."

"But – "

"Trust me."

Aqua eyes bet emerald for a long moment, then the yellow head nodded.

"All right. What's the signal?"

"You'll know it when you hear it," was the evasive response.

"When I _hear_ it? Trowa!"

"Trust me!" the brunet winked, and vanished, the door swinging silently shut behind him.

Quatre grumbled about people who got a kick out of abandoning those who really needed them, but returned to the party as he'd been told.

Barely five minutes later, a deafening ringing noise filled the air.

There was a sudden stampede for the exits.

Quatre grinned. "I'll know it when I hear it," he muttered, and headed for the stage door.


	2. White Christmas

**Disclaimer:** I don't own GW, or the boys – if I did, I'd have a much merrier holiday season. They are, however, on my wish list. I don't own any of the songs I mentioned either.

**Warning:** No real timeline, other than the fact that it's during the holiday season (that would be December).  
Not much of a location. It could be AU. Or not. You decide.  
A little bit of shounen-ai. Lots of fluffy snow, it's Christmas, after all!

**All I Want For Christmas**

**Part Two**

Trowa was waiting outside, as promised, holding Quatre's coat in one hand, and looking very pleased with himself.

"You pulled the fire alarm," Quatre felt it needed to be said aloud. "I can't believe you did that!"

"Anything for you, Cat," Tro replied, and slung his arm around the other boy's shoulders as they walked away from the hall.

Quatre laughed, and looped his own arm around the taller boy's waist.

A short bus-ride and a quick walk later, the two boys reached Quatre's house, entering through the kitchen door.

"I doubt anyone will be home until tomorrow," Quatre explained as he led the way through he dark house.

"It's almost tomorrow, now," Trowa replied, glancing at his light-up watch.

"Maybe we'll get some snow," Quatre commented. "We haven't had snow for Christmas since I can remember. Every year I've wished for it, but it's never happened."

"Me, too," Trowa said softly. "I've always hoped that someday…" he paused, then went on, "that someday I'd be able to share a first-snow kiss with someone. Someone special." He took the violinist's hand.

Quatre beamed, and squeezed the hand holding his. "That would be wonderful."

They moved down the hall together.

"Close your eyes," Quatre commanded a minute later.

"What?" Trowa started. "Why?"

White teeth flashed in the dim light as Quatre grinned. "Trust me."

Trowa scowled, but obeyed, closing his eyes tightly and letting the younger boy lead him forward.

"Stay there for a moment," Quatre said, letting go of Trowa's hand.

Something clicked, then Trowa felt Quatre's presence again at his side.

"Now," came Quatre's voice. "Open your eyes."

Tro slowly opened his eyes, and gasped in surprise.

They were standing in a large parlor that had been decked out for Christmas. An enormous tree, heavily laden with ornaments, lights, and strings of popcorn, stood in one corner. The mantle over an old-fashioned fireplace boasted a miniature nativity scene with brightly colored china figurines. Snowflake doilies covered the windows and hung from the ceiling on silver strings. Even the exquisite piano had been decorated with fake snow. The entire room was lit only by the strings of white Christmas lights on the tree and the electric candles on the tables. In was like walking into a wonderland.

"It's beautiful, Cat," Trowa breathed.

"I'm glad you like it," Quatre replied, voice equally soft. He rose onto his toes and kissed the taller boy gently on the mouth before resting his head against his shoulder. "Sing for me?" he asked, warm breath ghosting across Tro's neck.

"Of course." Trowa sat at the piano, caressing the keys. "Any requests?"

"'White Christmas'?"

Trowa nodded, and began to play.

"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas  
Just like the ones I used to know  
Where the treetops glisten  
And children listen  
To hear sleigh-bells in the snow…"

As Trowa's voice filled the parlor Quatre lit a fire in the grate, then moved to sit on the bench next to Tro. He closed is eyes as he leaned against his lover, content to just let the music wash over him.

"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas  
With every Christmas card I write  
May your days be merry and bright  
And may all your Christmases be white."

The last threads of the song faded away, leaving only the crackle of the fire to break the silence.

"Will you sing?" Trowa finally asked. "I'd hoped to hear you sing at the concert, but – "

"We can have our own concert," Quatre cut him off. "Just for us." He was silent for a long moment, then – "I know we agreed not to do presents this year, but that piece I played earlier," he was blushing fiercely, "the one I played at the concert on my violin, I wrote it for – "

"I know. Thank you." Trowa gave the blond a quick kiss, then rose from the bench and began to pace, looking suddenly awkward. "I know I can't match your song," he said in a rush, stopping and fixing his gaze on the fire. "It was so beautiful and I know you worked so hard on it, and I could tell it came from your heart. And I know we decided not to do real presents, and I know that I could never afford to get you anything like you deserve – not that there's anything you really need anyway – but I still really wanted to get you something, I just couldn't find anything that I felt was enough." He turned to face Quatre. "Cat, what do you want?"

The boy smiled, but didn't answer. Instead, he began to play, then to sing.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need  
I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true  
All I want for Christmas  
Is you…"

Trowa moved to lean on the piano, feeling the music reverberate through him as Quatre's voice rang out clear and sweet.

"I won't ask for much this Christmas  
I won't even wish for snow  
I'm just gonna keep on waiting  
Underneath the mistletoe  
I won't make a list and send it  
To the North Pole for Saint Nick  
I won't even stay awake to  
Hear those magic reindeer click  
'Cause I just want you here tonight  
Holding on to me so tight  
What more can I do  
Baby all I want for Christmas  
Is you…"

Trowa turned away again, blinking rapidly as the pure notes continued to fill the air.

"Oh I don't want a lot for Christmas  
This is all I'm asking for  
I just wanna see my baby  
Standing right outside my door  
Oh I just want you for my own  
More that you could ever know  
Make my wish come true  
Baby all I want for Christmas  
Is you…"

Quatre let the music die away as he stood and cross the room to wrap his arms around the other boy. "All I want for Christmas is you," he whispered.

Trowa kissed him fiercely, returning the tight embrace. "You have me," he murmured when they finally broke apart. "Always and forever, Cat."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

They kissed again.

Somewhere in the house, a clock began to slowly chime.

"It's midnight," Trowa said, voice soft. "Merry Christmas, Cat."

"Merry Christmas, Tro," Cat smiled, and snuggled close.

They stood there, just holding each other, as the last chimes faded away, then they reluctantly drew apart.

Quatre went to add another log to the fire, while Trowa looked around the room again, still trying to take it all in, and determined to fix this scene in his memory so he would never forget it.

Cat came to stand beside the older boy at the windows.

On closer inspection, Trowa realized that each window had been artificially frosted on the inside as well as on the outside by the cold. And he noticed something else.

Turning to the boy next to him, Trowa leaned in close and pressed another kiss to Quatre's lips, linking his arms around the other boy's waist.

Quatre sighed, arms draping themselves around Trowa's neck as he leaned into the kiss, pulling the taller boy closer.

"What was that for?" Cat asked when they finally broke apart.

Trowa smiled. "It's snowing."

**A/N:** Kissing in the snow is such a magical thing, and I read somewhere that it's good luck to kiss someone when it first starts to snow. Awww ::sniffles::  
Oh,the song Quatre played on his violin in Part 1 isn't actually based on anything real, just something floating in my head.  
Anyway, please R & R! And HAPPY HOLIDAYS to everyone!


End file.
